


smoke

by oisforoblivion



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Coming Out, F/F, M/M, at a cocktail, lots of cameras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:54:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24356890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oisforoblivion/pseuds/oisforoblivion
Summary: Foxes at yet another cocktail (and how they come out).
Relationships: Allison Reynolds/Renee Walker (All For The Game), Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Renison - Relationship, andreil - Relationship
Kudos: 126





	smoke

Allison took a final drag from the cigarette she balanced between her perfectly manicured fingers. She dropped it onto the ground, crushing the stub under the tip of her bright pink stilettos.

“Shit,” she sweared, looking at the stub on the ground. “I hated that when Seth did it. Four years of no littering record, gone straight to hell.”

“I have a napkin?” Neil asked.

“Hand it,” she said, beckoning with her fingers. After retrieving it from the ground and throwing both at the nearest trash can, they walked to the entrance. “You sure you don’t need a smoke? This is gonna be a long day.”

_Probably not for me_ , Neil couldn't help but thinking. He’d be out of there as soon as possible.

Allison’s eyes rolled over with an exaggerated manner and fixed the creases in her dress with a sigh. “Fine. Do whatever the fuck you want. Leave this sexy beast without her date," she said. "I bet they don’t even have nice booze here.”

“This is a cocktail Allison, what do they have if not booze?”

They entered the hall side by side after she turned around without a reply, and Neil could feel the immense amount of lenses turning at their direction. Allison didn’t react though Neil knew she was well aware of it (she looked like a queen already, why would she?), however, Neil cast one or two stern looks at their general direction. He counted at least four cameras turning their direction to the ground.

“Charming,” Allison commented.

They stopped by Dan and Matt, Neil not particularly participating to the conversation on the awful choices of music they had at the banquet, contending with dozing off at the faces in the crowd.

_Ten minutes_ , he repeated what he promised Wymack. _Ten minutes for some pictures of my face, then I’m out._

Soon enough, two more faces emerged from the crowd. Allison snatched a glass of champagne from a passing by waiter and immediately started walking at their direction, throwing only a wink at Dan as she did.

She literally ditched him the moment they got there and Neil didn't even have to pretend he wasn't expecting it. And he was the rude one.

He smirked.

As the two glasses (one filled with champagne, the other with orange juice) clinked together, two pairs of eyes (one icy blue, the other golden hazel) had already met across the room. _Subtle_ , he thought when Allison dragged Renee away with a gentle hold from her wrist, the one he couldn't see but sure was there between the puffy black tulles of Renee’s dress.

Andrew walked towards the door without breaking the eye contact, and Neil mirrored him. After a while, Neil couldn't tell who was leading who.

He had taken his first drag by the time Neil reached, the tip of the stick was faintly glowing with orange, as its smoke paved a path between his hand and mouth.

Andrew puffed out, Neil breathed it in.

Neil took it from between Andrew’s fingers and let it dangle down at the same level Andrew’s hand was. He didn't plan to smoke. He just couldn't think of another way to brush their fingers, and resisting wasn't an easy feat to acquire.

“Couldn’t find an orange suit?” Andrew spoke.

“Allison wouldn’t let me.” Neil put it between his lips.

“Shame,” he said.

Neil inhaled-

“You’d look like the fool you are.”

and exhaled.

Neil didn't know why they still paired up like that with every event they attend. Habits? Convenience? Maybe. Fun? He had to admit that he enjoyed not giving reporters what they wanted, but was it sustainable?

“Allison uses mint-flavoured ones.”

Andrew shot a glance.

“I think I prefer yours,” he said, showing the cigarette. “The smoke.”

_Bitter. Thick. Familiar._

“Fucking junkie,” he said and demanded his cigarette back. Neil replaced it the same way he got it. “You were late today,” he continued, taking a deep breath from the tip. “I won’t be waiting.”

_Surrounding him whole._

“I won’t make you.”

_Driving his senses to the edge._

“Yes or no?” he blew.

“Yes,” Neil received.

Wymack was right. The ten minutes was definitely worth it, showing his face for pictures.

When the camera flashed on their kiss, both Neil and Andrew’s middle fingers were up, smoke fogging their worlds into a dizzying haze.


End file.
